There's nothing remarkable about the food at Ali Baba, other than its freakish deliciousness. This small Broadway shop offers Middle Eastern standards--falafel, beef and lamb gyros, baba ghanoush--served up fast-food style, and at first, the self-service and glossy plastic décor seem out of place. Shouldn't food this good be served on plates, by waiters, and shouldn't it cost more? But therein lies Ali Baba's charm: Dishing up such carefully crafted ethnic food amid such standard-issue American Eating Establishment décor, Ali Baba feels like it wandered off some Manhattan side street, minus the filth and surly wait staff.

On to the food: Ever since I tasted Ali Baba's take on the basic falafel sandwich ($3.99), follow-up cravings have brought me back at least once a week. Again, nothing extraordinary, just deeply flavorful homemade falafel with good fresh vegetables (best in show: the tomatoes, the ultimate make-or-break garnish) wrapped in a warm, soft, thick pita. It's the Platonic ideal of a falafel sandwich, rendering all other contenders--most notably the long-tolerated Cedar's on NE 43rd--just shadows on the wall. My dining companion experienced similar bliss (and identical follow-up cravings) with the beef/lamb gyro ($4.25), which he praised for the "rich, fresh flavor" of the meats and the sophistication of the spices.

About the only thing working against Ali Baba is its historically damned locale, a veritable Bermuda Triangle of commerce whose walls have housed an array of failures, from the belovedly grungy Bagel Stop in the early '90s to the disturbing Pasta Ya Gotcha! for about 17 minutes in 1998. Don't let history repeat itself. Ali Baba is magically delicious and thrillingly thrifty, and it deserves to live.